Worse Games to Play
by AntoniaRose
Summary: Katniss and Peeta's life after the war, in District 12
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! I have decided to write a story about Katniss and Peeta as well. Please review and tell me how it is! Thanks! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. **

Chapter One: Decisions

I don't exactly know the meaning of the word 'healed'. I never understood it, and especially after I was sixteen, in my first Hunger Games, it just caused more confusion.

When I was 17, after being shot in District 2, when I was discharged from the hospital, that was the term the doctor used to describe my condition to Plutarch Heavensbee, the head of the rebellion, in the sense that he conducted all undercover operations.

"She's completely healed. She should be fine." That was what the doctor had told my mother. "She'll be fine."

_Yes, well. _I had wanted to say. _What about the nightmares, Doctor Greendon? Do normal, healed people wake up screaming about mutts with human eyes? _

But I didn't.

Instead, I stayed quiet, playing my role as the Mockingjay. Katniss Everdeen, The Girl With The Berries, The Girl On Fire. Mockingjay. How many names have been given to me. How many titles have been placed on my shoulders.

Yet this is what it amounts to. A badly damaged girl, a girl with nightmares, with no parents, and no sister. With no one but the Boy with the Bread.

The Girl With the Berries and the Boy with the Bread. How ironic.

But through it all, sweet, loyal, gentle Peeta has stayed with me. I did not lose the Boy with the Bread for good.

One thing to be grateful for.

The nightmares have been more vicious lately. All of them the result of a simple question that Peeta asked me two months ago.

We were sitting at the kitchen table as Peeta painted and I skinned a squirrel. He had turned to me nervously.

"Katniss, I know you feel nervous about this. I know you don't feel good about it, but I just wanted to ask. Do you…do you want to have children?" he asks me.

I froze.

Children would be a very bad idea. I was already messed up, broken beyond repair. A horrible mess glued together by pure will. By knowing that I needed to live.

I knew the recurring nightmares that would occur. The horrible dreams of watching my child walk to the stage to their death. Just like that day I watched Prim walk to the stage towards her impending demise. But as her sister, and being of legal age, I could still save her.

But as her mother, I would not have that option.

No, no, no. I couldn't have kids now. I couldn't.

But then I looked at Peeta, and I saw the hopeful spark in his eyes. I know Peeta wants kids. I can see it in his face. And why shouldn't he? Why should he be denied his dream because of me?

But, broken up as I am, would I be able to handle kids?

Eventually, I came to a decision.

"I'm twenty now," I had told him. "You can ask me twice every year until I hit menopause. That's my limit. But I promise I will think about it when you ask me."

Peeta smiled, and I knew he hoped that I would change my mind.

I didn't know if I would do so.

All I could do was hope that whatever happened would be for the best.

13 years later -

It's been more than a decade since I told Peeta about my decision. And, true to his word, he asks me twice every year, on the 8th of April, and the 23rd of November. This leaves me ample time between the two to think about my decision.

It's been a no every time.

It hurts me to see Peeta's face those two days, always hoping at first, then turning into glumness, before it brightens again, thinking of the next time he can ask me and hope for a assent.

It's on the 15th of August that I think about it, really think about it. I make myself focus on the positive instead. I think about my mother's face when Prim was born. I was little then, only four, but I can still remember the joy and the tears of my mother as she held Prim to her tightly.

The families I sometimes see in town, their faces brighter as they hold their children.

Children were meant to be a blessing, isn't that what they say? A blessing. Not a curse. Not something to have nightmares about.

There are not even any more Hunger Games to worry about.

I think of my mother, and for the first time I admire her courage. I always despised her for abandoning us after Dad died. But I never really thought about how brave she was.

She chose to have us, even though she knew there was a possibility we could be reaped. Even though she knew there was the chance that she would have to watch us die on screen. Her own children.

Yet she chose not only to have me, but Prim as well.

I am the coward now.

My child can have a bright future, free from the Capitol and starvation and poverty. Free from the Hunger Games.

And so I make up my mind.

I have to trust that Peeta knows what's best for me. I have to trust that I am making the right decision. I hope I am.

I walk into the house to see Peeta sitting at the kitchen table icing the cake. I see the sadness on his face and I know what he's thinking. He thinks I will never change my mind. But he will never press me. He will always accept my decision. Sweet Peeta has done so much for me.

It's about time I did something for _him._

I take a deep breath and steel myself. Then I blurt it out. "Yes."

Peeta doesn't look up. "Hmm?" he asks me, concentrating on the cake. "Yes," I repeat. "I want to have children."

Peeta freezes. "Katniss? Did you say you want to have children?" he asks me. I smile sadly. Poor Peeta. He must have totally given up on me ever saying yes. I can't trust myself to speak. I simply nod.

In a second, Peeta's arms are around me, squeezing me hard, and I hug him back as he kisses me. I can taste his tears on my lips.

I can finally do something to make Peeta happy. And for all I know, maybe this would be for the best for me too.

I certainly hope so.

Peeta finally releases me, and our smiles mirror each other. I haven't smiled like this since…well since my father died, I suppose. But now I know that happiness is possible.

I focused on the thought that my child will never have to know the world I lived in. The world that didn't care if its children died…

I tried to push away the depressing thoughts. I am still happy, although the elation is fading slightly, replaced by a little fear. So I go where I always go. The one place I feel free.

The woods.

Peeta turns his attention back to his cake, a smile on his face. I shrug on my father's hunting jacket and I'm off like lightning. I duck under the fence as usual. Every time I go to the woods, my mind is a jumble of thoughts and emotions. I feel the freedom that I always get here. But there are new emotions now-sadness and hurt and a little bit of anger.

I think back to when I was 16, a time when Prim was still alive, when my mother still lived in District 12, when Gale still used to be my best friend. I knew what my life was then. I knew what it consisted of. The Hunger Games existed, and I still felt the hate towards the Capitol.

But those emotions were easier compared to these.

Today, I let myself wonder what it would have been like if Prim hadn't been reaped in the Hunger Games. The following sequence of events would have been drastically different.

On one hand, The Hunger Games would still exist.

But on the other, my sister would still exist.

Is this right of me? To be willing to let others die so Prim could have lived? I bring myself back to earth with a bump. No point in wishing for things that could have occurred. Prim is dead, and Gale is gone, and my mother will never set foot in District 12 again.

Dreaming is pointless. My life will always be this way.

Shaking away all those thoughts, I retrieve my bow and arrow from the log where I always stash it. I creep through the forest, my arrow nocked, and my bow ready to fire. From the corner of my eye I spot a deer and I let the arrow fly as I turn, one foot poised, my bow drawn and ready.

The arrow pierces the deer right in the eye and it falls. I walk over to it, and skin it, leaving the meat behind in my bag.

It is at times like these that I miss Gale. He was the one person who would always be there for me. My hunting partner and my best friend. We would argue, light-heartedly, about who got the lion's share, before sharing the spoils equally and heading off to town.

But those days were gone.

And they could never come back.

I check my squirrel and rabbit traps. I get two fat rabbits and a healthy squirrel, before I stash my weapons away and start the long trek back to town. It is only mid-afternoon, and I decide to stay a little longer. I stop a couple of metres from the fence and let myself fall onto the grass, trying to shove away the memories on my shoulders. Today, for the first time, I think about what a normal person's life would have been like, before the wars and the disasters that destroyed the world and left only Panem surviving. What technology would they have had? What would their lives have been like, without the Hunger Games and the starvation and the poverty? I idly let my mind wander, and watch the sky turn from blue to orange, and then pink.

I sigh. Time to go home.

Peeta is waiting for me, and suddenly I feel so glad that he is here, that I didn't lose him along with my family, and Gale. I think of all the people I have lost over the years. Rue. Cinna. Darius. Finnick. My father. My mother. Prim. Gale. Boggs. All the people who died fighting along with me, and for me, in the wars.

How many people have lost their lives because of the Hunger Games and the war? I know about the memorials that have been erected, about the arenas that have been destroyed. Yet, it feels so small compared to how many people gave their lives for us.

But Peeta is here, and he will always be with me until the day one of us dies. It is at this moment that I realise how deeply I really love him. So I throw myself into his arms, and whisper, "I love you."

I can sense his surprise. I am not normally very open with my emotions. I prefer to show my love for the people I care about in different ways. Less subtle ways. But today, I don't care. If Peeta dies tomorrow, I want him to know that I love him.

He hugs me tightly, and then scoops me up, carrying us to the bedroom. "What about dinner?" I weakly protest. He shakes his head, not breaking stride.

And for today, I go along with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Please note, that I am new to writing fanfics, and therefore, my chapters may not always be posted correctly. But I will always try to do it properly! Thanks, and enjoy this chapter! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. **

Chapter Two: Discovery

Two months later -

Peeta has gone out to tend to some business in town, as I wash up after lunch. I do not feel like going to the woods today. In fact, all I feel like doing is taking a nap. I finish drying up the last plate and head upstairs. I fall asleep before my head even hits the pillow.

A couple of hours later, I wake up to a strange feeling in my stomach that feels like tugging. I immediately know what it is, and I make it to the bathroom just in time to throw up everything I ate for lunch. It could just be a virus, but I doubt it. Years of instinct tell me the truth before the test can medically confirm it. I just know. I am pregnant.

And I panic.

I wasn't thinking clearly the day that I told Peeta yes, and I know that now. How can I be ready, if I break down the very moment I find out I am pregnant? How can I handle nine months of this if the first second reduces me to tears? Not joyful ones either. What am I going to do?

I let my instincts take control as I flee to my refuge, just like I did when I was young and my mother was treating patients in our house. These woods always comfort me, and I dread the time when I will be unable to spend time in it because of the child growing in my stomach. I refuse to think about anything, feel anything, as I dash to the fence and burrow under it.

I take a couple of steps into the woods and collapse onto a green slope, sobbing like I never have before. I can't do this. I'm not ready. I can't. I wish so desperately in that moment that Prim was with me now. She always knew what to say, what to do, to make me feel better. I may have protected her physically, but mentally, Prim was my refuge, just like the woods are. She was my safe haven and she was gone.

At that moment, I let myself cry like I never have before. Loud, wailing cries that echo in the trees. I cry for Prim, for my mother, for everyone I have lost because of the Capitol and the war. I cry for myself. But most of all, I cry for my child, because what will it do when it comes into the world? When it finds out that its parents aren't normal?

What have I done to my child, becoming its mother? I am terrified. I'm not ready for this at all.

I feel like a little girl again, wailing for my sister and my mother to come and comfort me. But they can't. And they never will. I don't want Peeta right now. In fact, I hate him for doing this to me. I hate Peeta Mellark.

I quieten down after a while, and think rationally. I feel guilty for blaming Peeta. He never pushed me into this. He let me make my own decision. He had nothing to do with it at all. Why was I blaming sweet, gentle Peeta? I sigh loudly and look up at the sky.

It's a bright blue that reminds me of Prim. A cheerful blue, letting me know that things will be alright again. I take solace in this fact and let myself rest.

It is late evening when I open my eyes again. The sky is Peeta's favourite hue of orange now. I realize that someone is calling my name. I focus on the sound.

"Katniss? Katniss where are you? Are you ok?" I hear Peeta yelling as he ducks below the fence. His voice is panicked until he looks down and sees me. Then he calms and visibly and comes and sits beside me. I say nothing to him.

"Katniss, what's wrong? What's upset you like this?" he asks me. I grind my teeth together. This is harder than I ever thought it would be. What was I thinking? Obviously, I wasn't thinking.

"I'm pregnant, that's what," I say, looking at the trees ahead.

When he answers, Peeta's voice is cautious, guarded. "I thought that was the point."

I suddenly feel so angry it's like I'm going to explode.

"What do you expect me to do, Peeta? Jump up and down yelling that I'm having a baby and I'm thrilled to bits? I did this for you! Not for me! You asked me for 14 years, you kept doing sweet things for me, and I wanted to repay you, and this was the only thing you wanted, and I thought, Ok, I can do this for you! But this scares me! This child scares me! What if…what if the Hunger Games started again and she gets reaped, and, and…she..she…"

I don't manage to finish the whole sentence before I burst out crying again. This child scares me more than anything in the world, even the Hunger Games. It is the first person that I've allowed myself to love just as much as Prim. If she meets Prim's fate, I don't know what will happen to me. I'll go crazy, lose my mind completely.

I can't do this.

"That was why you didn't want to have children?" Peeta asks quietly. He probably assumed I wasn't a mothering, fussy type. Who would think that Katniss Everdeen, Hunger Games victor, and rebel, would ever be a mother?

I never thought I would be one myself.

Peeta pulls me onto his lap, and I lean my head against his shoulder as the sun continues to set. Finally, Peeta talks to me. "Katniss, I think you need help. I've thought of a game for you. See, you always worry that bad things will happen, that everyone you love will die. Why not focus on the positive instead?" he asks.

"Yeah, I have my list and my monologue," I say, frowning.

"No, I don't mean that. In fact, you can actually use your imagination for this one." Intrigued, I ask him what he is talking about.

"You can imagine District 12, or any other place for that matter. You can make up anything you want. And you can imagine that this is what the world will look like in 20 years, or 50 years, let's say. A happier place than the one we lived in."

I try out Peeta's idea. I imagine a meadow filled with wildflowers, and my child playing with us, as we chase her. I imagine a little girl, with Peeta's blonde hair, and my own, grey eyes.

Her eyes are clear, bright, unburdened, with none of the troubles that were placed on us. Her future is brighter, her horizon is filled with more prospects. My daughter.

As the sun goes down, my heart feels lighter, and I hug Peeta close to me, holding onto him as he supports me.

Two months later –

I feel the sensation in my gut, and I dash to the bathroom, throwing up in the toilet. Peeta rubs my back gently, holding my hair back from my face, as I throw up everything in my stomach. Which is ridiculous, because I never ate anything anyway. I just woke up!

I press my cheek to the floor, lying on a towel. Morning sickness. What a myth. I only wish it would confine itself to the morning, instead it plagues me the whole day. I make the bathroom my temporary home for the day, because that is where I spend most of my time, either barfing my guts up, or lying on the cold tiled floor, spent.

Peeta always keeps glasses of water with a few mint leaves inside. He brings me up some food at dinner and lunch. I can only eat rabbit meat, and rice. My stomach rejects anything else.

Most of the time, Peeta and I try to figure out what foods are okay for me to eat-which basically means which foods will stay in me and which will come right back up.

The cheese buns pass the test, thankfully, and so do the blueberry muffins, the chicken soup, and the garlic bread.

I grow thinner and thinner, until I can hardly leave the house without invoking comments about my appearance.

"Katniss, what happened?

"You look ill. Are you all right?"

"Do you need a doctor?"

It is Greasy Sae who guesses first, but she doesn't say anything. She just winks at me, and smiles an encouraging smile. It gives me hope.

Peeta just manages to control his anxiety about me going into the woods. But I can't stop. It's the only place I feel safe, the only place that lets me have peace.

I never feel an urge to upchuck here. Maybe it's just the presence of so much peacefulness. But for whatever the reason, I am beyond grateful.

It is close to three months later that I start to show a light bump. And then I get attention.

I am leaving the woods one afternoon when a voice catches my attention.

"How many months are you?"

I turn around and the person steps into the light. She's a woman, no, a young girl, maybe around twenty. She has strong, clear features, and her dark brown hair is braided neatly, falling till mid-chest. She has light blue eyes, and dark shadows under her eyes, which shows that she is clearly overworked.

I cannot mistake the burden in her eyes, however. If this girl truly is twenty, then she must have been around six during the war. Not yet old enough to know what it meant, but old enough to know the horror it caused. And something in her eyes tells me that she has seen as much sorrow as I have, perhaps more.

She steps forward and repeats her question. "Katniss, how many months are you?"

For some reason, I find myself trusting her. "Nearly three."

She frowns. "I see. Could you come along with me? I think I have something that can help you." I find myself inexplicably liking her more.

I never trust people instantly. I can't. My first intention is always that the person means harm. I have trusted only three people on sight, or first knowing them. Cinna, Rue and Peeta. And now this girl.

I follow the girl, and I realize that she is District 12's resident doctor. A painful pang hits my chest, as I realize that this could have been Prim's future. A future which was snatched from her.

The girl leads me to sit down, and looks me up and down. Then she speaks.

"Katniss, my name is Victoria. I don't think you know me, but I am District 12's resident doctor. Could I ask you to just lie down on this table here? I'm going to do an ultrasound, see how far along you are."

I lie down on the table as Victoria spreads some kind of cold gel on my stomach. As she moves the cold metal probe over my skin, suddenly the sound of a heart beating fills the room. Victoria allows a smile to cross her face. "That's your baby's heartbeat. Look, the baby is right here."

I turn my head and watch the screen, and I see a vaguely blurry shape. My child's arms are spread out, and immediately, the first thing that comes to my mind is a mockingjay, wings spread in flight. My little mockingjay. I realize that I am crying-but tears of joy this time. Victoria prints out the ultrasound for me to show Peeta.

"Katniss, I am not going to discourage you from going to the woods, because you obviously feel calm there, and that's good for the baby. For now, you can still climb and hunt, but from you third semester, you can't do that. I would advise that you try not to run too much, and you should be fine. Also, be careful when you hunt. I think that is it. Do come to me if you have any problem."

"Do you mind if I go over to Peeta while you trade? You are losing too much weight. Not able to keep anything down?" Victoria asks.

I nod.

"Okay, well, I have a list of foods here, and I'll just go tell Peeta about some things you should do. See you in a while, Katniss." With a brisk, firm nod, Victoria bustles out the door and heads off in the direction of the Victor's Village.

I trade some of the squirrels for soap and eggs, a rabbit for a good amount of ham and uncooked rice. I don't barter as I usually do, my mind filled with thoughts of Victoria.

In a way, she reminds me of Prim, with her light blue eyes, and soft demeanour. Her hair is clearly brown and not fair, and she is burdened with sorrows that Prim never had, although she did carry a fair amount.

But she has my sister's healing hands, and gentleness. The only thing perhaps different, is that Victoria is brisk and efficient when dealing with a patient, all business. She doesn't let her emotions interfere.

And Victoria is fragile. Underneath the tough façade that she tries to keep up, she is a broken girl, devastated by losses. She needs support and she has none.

I vow to myself to help her as much as I can. Just like I wanted to help Rue in the arena. Because she reminded me of Prim.

I walk home lost in my thoughts and walk in. I find Victoria and Peeta at the table, as Peeta eagerly writes down everything Victoria says. "Katniss!" he says, noticing me. "Victoria's been giving me tips on what you can eat. She says anything with lemon will be good for you. I never knew lemon was a natural antidote to throwing up!"

I smile at his enthusiasm. I knew Peeta felt bad making me go through this. But I didn't blame him.

"Thanks, Victoria," I say putting away my purchases in the kitchen. "No problem, Katniss. I'll see you again in a couple of months for a check-up, but if there is any problem, don't hesitate to drop in or call me. I have a phone at home, in case of emergencies. I'll come by anytime."

She gets up and shakes Peeta's hand before leaving. I sit down at the table as Peeta makes something for dinner. I decide to take a nap.

Peeta kisses me on the forehead as I head past him.

I lie down, but I don't feel sleepy. For the first time, I think about my child. Will it be a girl or boy? Will it be like me or Peeta? I hope it will inherit Peeta's gentle temperament instead of my angry and normally vengeful one. I don't forgive easily.

I think of how my child will look. Maybe a little girl with my dark hair and Peeta's iris-blue eyes. Or a boy, with my grey eyes and Peeta's fair hair.

What will it be like for my child to have me as a mother? I have no doubts about Peeta-I know he will be a model father. But, I am not Peeta. I am cold and quiet and distant. I don't let myself get close to people.

I am very sure my child will prefer Peeta over me. Who wouldn't?

"You will be an ideal mother, Katniss." I look up to see Peeta in the doorway. He smiles and comes to sit by me. "Did you read my thoughts, or something?" I ask him.

Peeta laughs softly. "No, but I can read you like a book. Your face says it all. Why are you so worried?"

"I'm not like you. I'm not warm and gentle and supportive. I'm quiet and cold and distant and I hardly ever trust anyone fully. Or love anyone. What if…what if my child hates me? Or doesn't like me?" I spill all my worries to Peeta.

Peeta takes my hand. "Katniss, don't worry. You are its mother. Our child will love you, no matter how it acts or what it says. The fact that you worry about being a good mother shows that you already are one." That thought comforts me.

Then I remember the ultrasound.

"Oh, Victoria gave me an ultrasound today! I've got the printout in here," I say, delving into my bag to find it. Grabbing it, I place it in Peeta's hand.

He looks at it, tears welling in his blue eyes and spilling onto his cheeks. Then he looks at the picture closely. "It looks like a – "

"Mockingjay, doesn't it?" I finish. "I know. My little mockingjay." Tears spill on my own cheeks now. "It's like it's mother then," says Peeta, smiling sadly now. "Panem's little Mockingjay."

"Peeta," I say, choking down my sobs. "What if she-she's t-taken fr-from us?" I ask him, nearing hysteria. Peeta looks at me firmly. "Katniss, I won't let that happen. Ever. If anything hurts our child, I will destroy it. I will never let anything hurt her."

I nod, reassured. "Her," I note. "You said her."

"Yeah," Peeta replies. "I think it'll be a girl. Like you. The mockingjay pose is too much of a giveaway." "I think it'll be a girl too," I say.

That night, the nightmares don't come back, and I sleep in peace.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello guys. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoy writing it. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games **

Chapter Three: News

Two Months Later –

Life has been fairly uneventful lately. I'm nearly six months pregnant, so I have a slight bump showing. Of course everyone knows now, so I have to put up with comments such as:

"How did Peeta ever get you to agree?"

"Katniss Everdeen, pregnant? Impossible!"

"You have got to be joking!"

But I know that it is all with good intentions, so I put up with it cheerfully. I know that my having a baby is like a sign of moving forward. It tells the rest of Panem that if I'm moving on, if I'm having a baby, then they can do it too.

It gives people hope.

I just realized a couple of days ago, that I have to stop going to the woods in a few weeks. I spend more time than usual here now, making up for the times that I can't go there any longer. I simply sit on the grass slope that I always go to, and enjoy the peace and tranquillity of the woods.

It's on the grass slope that it first happens.

I feel a movement inside me, as if the world inside me is swirling, turning. It upsets my balance, and I have to clutch the ground around me.

It's a few moments before I realize what just happened.

My baby moved. I am five months pregnant, and my baby just moved.

I feel a panic attack coming on, and I imagine my happy place as hard as I can. It doesn't work. I list every single act of goodness I've ever seen someone do-what I call my list. That doesn't work either. I move on to my monologue.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I live in District 12. I was in the Hunger Games twice. I was the Mockingjay in the rebellion. Prim is dead. President Coin killed her. I killed President Coin. The Hunger Games does not exist anymore. I love Peeta Mellark. I am married to Peeta Mellark. I am pregnant. My baby just moved. I have three more months to go. I am terrified. _

No result.

I gingerly lean back onto the grass and stare at the sky, immobilized. I cannot form any coherent thought.

I move my thoughts away from the baby, and let myself think about Prim. Something I've never done since she died. Something I've never done for more than fifteen years.

But I do it now.

I imagine her eyes, blue and kind and gentle. Her fair hair, which I stroked and braided so many times. Her creamy skin and fair complexion. So unlike my own darker skin.

I remember how her words always soothed me, how her hands could calm me instantly. She was so much like my mother. I miss them so much. I wish more than anything that the two of them were here.

My mother would offer some advice on how to calm down, Prim would hold my hand and whisper comforting words. But I'm all alone. I don't think I can get up, so I sit and wait for Peeta to find me.

He'll come eventually. He knows I'll be here.

And come he does.

I hear his footfalls on the soft grass as I sit staring at the sky. He lies down beside me and takes my hand in his.

At that moment, I decide that I don't want Peeta to know the baby moved. He'll be afraid at first, looking to see if I'm hurt. Then he'll maintain a carefully guarded expression, and say something tactful, gauging my reaction.

If I'm upset, he'll be soothing, kind, help me up and lead me home, maybe make my favourite cheese buns. If I'm okay, happy even, he'll let himself smile, maybe show some excitement.

Right now, I need to get used to this new movement first, before I let Peeta know about it. Feel some excitement, enjoy this like all mothers do. Not feeling this overwhelming panic, this insatiable want for my mother and sister.

So I keep a poker face as I close my eyes. We stay there together, just relaxing in each other's company. Spending some time together. Hours pass, and the afternoon turns to evening, before the evening turns to night.

The first stars are just appearing on the horizon when Peeta stirs. "Come on Katniss, let's go," he says. "I made rabbit stew today," he says.

I raise an eyebrow. Peeta hardly ever skins a rabbit by himself, finding it a squeamish task. He leaves it to me, only using the meat that I provide him. He winks at me, but says nothing as he helps me up.

That gets me suspicious.

I watch his every movement carefully as we walk home at a leisurely pace. He smiles occasionally, and I know, without a doubt, that he has planned something.

I just don't know what.

When we get home, he slips a blindfold over my eyes, and leads me inside before removing it.

I gasp.

The whole room is dark, lit only by two candlesticks, placed on a table set for two.

All of my favourite foods are on the table. A few chicken legs are placed on a plate, with some loaves of bread, waiting to be eaten. The rabbit stew and cheese buns most of the left side of the table. Some ham sandwiches accompany the chicken legs, on a little plate.

A chocolate cake takes pride of place.

I look at Peeta, my hand flying to my mouth. "Why-" I start, then stop when he raises an eyebrow.

That's when I realise today's date. February 28th. Our wedding anniversary. I look at the clock, and I realise it was precisely at this moment, 14 years ago, that we did the toasting. That we officially became husband and wife.

I look down, ashamed. I forgot our wedding anniversary, didn't get anything for Peeta, and didn't tell him our baby moved. He remembered, he actually set up a romantic dinner, and he has put up with me for so many years.

I remembered something Haymitch said ages ago- "You could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve Peeta Mellark."

He was right.

I hug Peeta tightly and sit down at the table to gorge myself. We chat amicably as we polish off every piece of food, and then turn our attention to the cake. It's pretty obvious that he made it.

Only Peeta could ice the cake so delicately, to put the finishing touches on it so nicely. It is, without a doubt, his handiwork.

Tears spring to my eyes when I realise that he has created a miniature forest as the icing. The top of the cake is layered with green icing, like grass, surrounded my trees. Three miniature figures lie on top. One, with dark hair, and a bow, is obviously me. The second, light head, is Peeta.

But there is one more person, between both of us. She has dark long hair, in one braid, and smaller than the two of us.

Our daughter.

Peeta and I cut the cake together, each of us eating our own figure, and sharing our daughter's one. The cake is delicious, chocolate sponge with vanilla cream in the middle. We share it together, laughing as we smash each other's faces with cake, and making a mess of ourselves.

It is at times like these that I am truly happy.

I don't know what I am most days. Normal, just living through the motions, not really happy, not sad. Just…existing.

But I am happy now, and I try to make the most of the moment.

That's when I decide to tell Peeta the baby moved. After all he has done for me, this is the best I can do for him.

"Peeta," I begin, "I have something to tell you." He looks at me expectantly. "The baby moved today," I tell him, smiling, and I watch his reaction. Tears pool in his eyes.

"Really?" he asks. "When?"

"In the woods," I reply. "Guess she liked it there."

"She's just like her mother, then," Peeta says fondly, and holds me close.

Peeta sweeps me up in his arms, and carries me to bed. He continues to hold me in his arms, and eventually, I fall asleep.

I wake up at some point in the night. I don't know why, but then I feel something trickling between my legs, and groan. I've started peeing in my sleep.

I ease off the bed so as not to wake Peeta, who is sleeping peacefully, and make my way to the bathroom.

When I flick on the light, I see a drop of red on the ground, and frown. I've told Peeta a hundred times not to flick his paintbrush and splatter paint all over the floor.

It's not until another drop of red joins it that I realize it's not paint. It's blood.

**Hey guys! I'm really sorry for making you wait this long….and I'm really sorry about the cliffhanger, I couldn't resist. I'll really try to update soon. **

**Till next time!**


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